Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(35)

‘Patrick, what am I looking at?’

‘There, that ruddy great bald patch!’ he says, his voice annoyed.

I scan his mop of thick silver hair looking for a bald patch, but I’m damned if I can see one. ‘Patrick, there is no bald patch.’ I appease him.

‘Damn well would be if I didn’t take my vitamins.’ he grumbles. ‘Nice flowers.’

‘Oh yes. My brother.’ I blurt out quickly. I need to have a word with Jesse about this.

‘How lovely.’ He smiles, making his way to his office.

My phone starts dancing across my desk, alerting me of a text.



YOU are beautiful and I know you know. Cheeky! I miss you. Jx



He misses me. I melt all over my handbag contents. I miss him too, but I’m now dreading having to go back to Doctor Monroe for the third time. This is ridiculous.

With my phone in my hand, I decide I may as well get the one call I really don’t want to make out of the way. I dial Matt, and it rings twice before he answers.

‘Ava?’ He sounds pleased to hear from me. I want to smash his face in immediately.

‘Hi, I could do with picking those bits up.’ I get straight to the point. If I didn’t need my things, I wouldn’t call him at all. Just thinking of him makes my skin crawl; talking to him has me physically itching. I was with him for four years. How did this happen?

‘Of course.’ He’s too eager and it doesn’t sit well.

‘Can I swing by after work? Say, six-ish?’ I ask.

‘Sure, I look forward to it.’ he replies cheerfully.

I want to hiss down the phone at him, tell him exactly what I think of him, but I know he is probably expecting some sort of backlash from me. I’m not going to indulge him. What I do and who I do it with has nothing to do with him.

Why did you ring my parents, you worm?

‘Great, see you then.’ Why did I say that for? It’s not great at all. He may be looking forward to it, but I’m certainly not. Once I have the rest of my things, I won’t ever be seeing him again.

‘Yeah, see you later.’ he sings. He sounds almost smug.

I shudder and hang up. If I could, I would send Kate around to get my things, but I know that will just end in tears and possible police intervention. I’ll be in and out in ten minutes. I can resist the urge to pound on him for the short amount of time it’s going to take me to gather my stuff and retreat.

‘You want a coffee, Ava?’

I look up and see Sally fiddling with her ponytail. There’s something different about her. ‘Please. Did you have a good weekend, Sal?’ I ask. Why does she look different? She shuffles on the spot and blushes ten shades of crimson, and then I notice that her high necked blouses have been replaced with a scoop neck top. Wow! Sal has great tits! Who would have thought?

‘I did. Thank you for asking, Ava.’ She scuttles off to the kitchen.

I grin to myself. Our dull, dreary Sal may have had some male action at the weekend. I put my phone down and start working through my files, ready for my appointment with Mr Van Der Haus on Wednesday.

As ten thirty approaches, I gather my things to go on a few site visits. ‘Sal, tell Patrick I’ve gone to check on a few sites. I’ll be back about four thirty.’

‘Will do.’ she sings enthusiastically, while filing some invoices. Yep, she’s definitely had some male interest. Do men really have that impact on us women?

I pass Victoria and Tom at the door.

‘Darling, how was your weekend?’ Tom croons.

‘Great,’ I say, accepting his air kiss. ‘I’ve got to dash. I’ll be back about four thirty.’

‘Excuse me.’ Victoria barges past me.

‘What’s up with her?’ I ask Tom.

Tom rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, bugger me if I know. She rang on Saturday declaring she was in love, then I meet her this morning and she has a face like a slapped arse!’

‘Drew?’ I ask. What’s gone wrong?

Tom shrugs. ‘She doesn’t want to talk about it. Not a good sign. I’ll see if I can pump any info out of her. Speak to you later.’

I make my way to the tube and stop off at the chemist to replace my depleted gloss. I’m drawn to the vitamins, remembering reading about deficiency when I was doing my research on the internet about alcoholics. Standing and reading the backs of a million pots, I decide to speak to the pharmacist.

After a vague chat, he recommends a few things, but strongly advised seeking medical help if I’m worried. Am I worried? Jesse insists he’s not an alcoholic and he certainly doesn’t scramble for the hard stuff when he sees it. I buy the vitamins, anyway. They can’t hurt.

When I’m walking up Kensington High Street, I hear Bill Withers singing Ain’t no Sunshine from my bag. Oh, I bet he thinks he’s clever. I don’t think twice about answering it. I don’t need him flying into panic over a few missed calls and bombarding me during my client visits. I need to keep him stable and if that means a quick telephone conversation, then so be it.

‘Hey.’ I greet.

He sighs. ‘God, I miss you.’ He sounds so forlorn. It’s only been four hours since he had me spread on the kitchen worktop.

‘Why did you send John to pick me up?’ I ask.

‘You didn’t have your car.’ he says it like I’m stupid for even asking.